life on the small scale: a story at at time

No Matter What

All of our biggest conversations happen in the car. We were on our way to gymnastics, deep into a Depeche Mode song, when Quinlan asked me to revisit a story I’d once mentioned about a boyfriend I’d had when I was younger. “Mom? Did he throw you into the lake?”

It took me a moment before I realized what she was talking about, then immediately swore to always downplay any single story I told her again from there on out. “No, no, honey. That boy never THREW me into a lake. We were in a canoe on a lake, and he was teasing me by rocking the boat over the deep water.”

“And that’s why he didn’t become your boyfriend anymore?”

“Well, not because of just that. But I was upset because he knew I was scared. But there were more moments after that when…” I couldn’t think of a way to explain it. “He wasn’t mean. I just started to feel bad about myself when I was around him. Like, sad.” She seemed to understand what I was saying. “So I knew it was time for him to not be my boyfriend anymore.”

We drove in silence for a bit. I wanted to say something more.

“Can I tell you, though? Do you want to know what I like about your dad? As a boyfriend thing?”

“What?” Her little voice. Oh, that little voice.

“I just realized this the other day, actually,” I said. “And I told your dad, too: no matter how grumpy I am, or grouchy, your dad always makes me feel good about myself.”

And then I corrected myself. “I mean, not makes me feel good about myself,. What I mean is that I know that he likes me just as I am, all the time.”

Quinlan’s response was matter-of-fact. “I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Even when you fight, he still likes you. You can tell. Just like when we do something wrong, you still like us.”